Page 81 of Master Wolf

The thought of Lindsay’s wolf trapped there made his heart hurt so much he had to rub at his chest with the heel of his hand to ease the pain. As he did so, he realised something: he could feel the bond again. Except… it was different now. Previously, their bond had been one of maker and made, with Drew firmly in the subordinate role. But now? Now… he wasn’t sure. He didn’t feel like a made wolf anymore, one that might be compelled at any moment, but nor did he feel any sense of mastery over Lindsay.

Perhaps their bond went both ways now, binding them together mutually, as equals?

He supposed he couldn’t know till Lindsay woke and told him how it felt to him.

What he did know, was that this new bond didn’t change his feelings about Lindsay in any way. As he watched the wolf sleeping on his bed, he felt just as he had all those years ago, when he’d walked into Hector Cruikshank’s parlour and seen Lindsay Somerville for the first time in a pink striped coat and Nile green breeches.

Thunderstruck.

Lovestruck.

The question was, how would Lindsay feel when he saw Drew?

* * *

An hour later,when Lindsay showed no sign of waking, sleeping peacefully on even after Drew stopped trying to be quiet, Drew decided to go in search of food—and news. As much as he wanted to stay here in this quiet den with Lindsay, he could not ignore the events of the previous night any longer.

When he emerged from the bedchamber and began to walk downstairs, it was to discover that bright daylight was streaming through the windows of the townhouse, making everything look ordinary again. There were no signs of any altercation having taken place and the house was silent.

He searched empty room after empty room until, finally, he found Wynne, sitting at a desk in a small study, staring out of the window.

Drew stood in the doorway for a while, quiet, before he finally knocked softly at the open door and Wynne glanced up, startled.

“Drew,” he said. Then, tensely, “How’s Lindsay?”

Drew entered the study. “He has shifted,” he said, a helpless smile curving his mouth. “He is sleeping now, in his wolf form.”

Wynne closed his eyes. “Thank God,” he whispered shakily and Drew saw that the hand he ran over his face trembled.

Drew took a seat in the chair on the other side of the desk. “Where is everyone?” he asked. “The house is so quiet.”

Wynne opened his eyes again, but he didn’t meet Drew’s gaze when he answered. “It’s just us. I turned the servants away this morning—told them not to come back till Thursday. Mim took Alys to Rankeillor Street earlier. Or perhaps I should say Alys took her.” He paused, frowning. “She doesn’t speak, but somehow, you know what she wants.” His voice was even, but Drew noticed the edge to his scent.

Concern, and… jealousy?

“What about”—Drew hesitated, swallowing hard—“Francis and Duncan?”

“Their bodies are still in the bedchamber,” Wynne said. His expression was bleak. “I’ve covered them and sealed the room with a charm. There will be no change for now.”

“No change?”

“No decomposition,” Wynne clarified flatly. “We will have to take them out tonight for burial though.”

Drew nodded, swallowing back a lump of raw sorrow.

“How is Marguerite?” he husked when he could speak again.

“Devastated. She loved Francis with all her heart.”

“Oh God,” Drew said, his voice breaking. “I know. And he loved her. So much.” It was… unbearable.

After a while, Wynne said, “It’s probably as well she has Alys to see to—it may be the only thing keeping her sane.”

Drew nodded. He could feel Wynne’s pain, and scent it, and see it, but there was nothing he could say to make it better.

All he could do, was distract him.

“I did what you said, you know.”